Bloody Creature Poster Girl
by Female Duo
Summary: Jonathan Crane has always been a manipulative bastard, but when his first victim, his high school girlfriend, rolls into town, it's Crane who gets mind fucked. Inspired by several songs by the band, "In This Moment," included by not limited to, "Whore," and "Sick Like Me." Rating is for language and adult situations. Crane/Scarecrow and OC
1. 1: Boo Back

**Hi all! So this is my first attempt at writing a DC comic thing, and those who have read my Marvel stuff already know that my comic book knowledge is limited. Well, it's even more limited on DC than it is Marvel, so if I get something incredibly wrong, PLEASE let me know. Crane's character is nearly completely based off of the Batman Begins movie, and some inspiration from other FanFic writers. My character, Senna Swan, is a creation that was inspired by Maria Brink, the lead singer of In This Moment. When I describe some of her styles, I'll place an ashtrik by it and put a note at the bottom in regards to what it's supposed to look like.**

 **Disclaimer** **: I do NOT own ANYTHING having to do with DC comics, or the Batman movies, video games, etc. I am not claiming I own these things, nor am I trying to infringe on anything. This story is just for my pleasure and the pleasure of others, because we're sick, twisted, fucks like that. ;)**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Boo Back**

Senna Swan never expected to be back in Gotham, but the University job was too good to pass up. She'd be living on campus, all expenses paid, until she found a place of her own in the city, but she didn't mind. As she pulled up to the dormitory, she noticed that the movers had beat her there and were already unloading boxes. The dorm was for seniors and grad students only, and they were more like apartments than dorms, save for them being minimally furnished, and two communal kitchens on each of the four floors. She had been told that her room on the top floor, where only one other student had a room, at the moment. Her furniture would go into storage for a little while, but her other things could all be brought up.

As she got out of her car, she put her black floppy hat on, completing her outfit: long black dress, blood red waist cincher, red heels, and long blond hair.* There was student outside of the dorm, either a senior undergrad, or new grad student judging by the looks of him, and he seemed to be waiting on her. Probably campus welcome committee. "Hello Professor Swan," he began, but was curtly cut off by the new instructor.

" _Doctor_ Swan. I'm not a professor, yet. I need tenure first," she corrected with a sweet smile. "Oh, I'm sorry, Dr. Swan." He wasn't a graduate student yet, that was for sure. So senior undergrad, probably the head of the student government or something like that.

"Here is a key to your room, as you can see, your movers are already here dropping of the boxes for you. Here is a folder and in it has login instructions, campus contact info, college events for the year, information of the storage facility the college set up for you, and a list of books the campus already has at the book store for classes, and an order form for you to fill out should you need more, or different ones. Are there any questions, Dr. Swan?"

"No, but thank you, dear," she replied, taking the folder and keys from the student before he began to walk away. Senna chose to stay outside and look around as the movers finished bringing in the last of her boxes into the building.

As a breeze moved her hair, and nearly took her hat from her head, Senna wondered if a certain cerulean eyed psychopath would even recognize her, if he even knew she was there in the first place. Never mind whether or not he did, Senna would still have her fun with her old flame.

She walked into her temporary home, taking off her hat as she crossed the building's threshold. It was time to unpack the boxes. Game One was already in motion, though she wished she could witness the result. Oh well, all in due time. All in due time.

 **xxx**

Doctor Jonathan Crane came back to his office at Arkham Asylum, after his lunch break, to find a small, dark blue envelope on his desk. Opening it, he quickly dropped it as if it just burned his fingers. There were only two words printed on the navy blue card, but they were enough to have the doctor glancing around his office suspiciously.

 **What's wrong, Johnny-boy? Seeing ghosts?** the Scarecrow taunted.

 _Shut up! It's nothing,_ he replied in his head.

Crane picked up the card, and the envelope it came in, and forcefully tossed them in the trash can by his desk. Out of sight, out of mind was how he treated it as he prepared for his next therapy session with a patient. But at the bottom of the dark trash can, those white, printed words practically glowed. Two words that resonated in Scarecrow's mind, having him wondering what kind of meaning they held to the good doctor. What could, "Boo Back," possibly mean?

* * *

 **So, there's my first chapter. The outfit Senna is wearing is similar to Maria Brink's "Sick Like Me," outfit, minus the gloves with the nails, and all the jewelry. Stay tuned for the next chapter. :)**


	2. 2: Old Friends

**Same Disclaimer as before! I own nothing! Except my own character, Senna Swan**

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Old Friends ...**

The start of the Fall Semester was still away by a week, but the campus was abuzz with life: students moving in, parents letting go of their babies, campus police patrolling, tours of the facilities being conducted, and instructors setting up new offices and finalizing their syllabi.

Senna was one of those instructors working in her new office in the psyche building, typing up her syllabus. She hadn't come across Jonathan, yet, but her second mind game in three weeks had already been underway, having left a calling card of sorts in his office at the university. This one was a single, un-bloomed, white rose. No note, no receipt, not even a ribbon tied around its long stem, just the rose.

 **What the fuck, Jonathan?** Scarecrow growled at Crane.

 _It's nothing_ he replied.

 **Need I remind you, Johnny-boy, that all I have to do is dig through your memories to find out?**

 _Please don't. I really don't need the headache right now._

 **Fine. But you better tell me who's sending these love tokens to you, and soon.**

 _Fine. Fine. Let me finish this syllabus schedule, please._

When he heard no reply, Crane took it as a sign that his alter ego was going to let him finish his work, in peace. About thirty minutes later, an email came through. Crane rolled his eye as he saw the subject line, "Faculty Meeting on Wednesday." It was currently Tuesday. The Dean of Psychology always scheduled meetings at the last minute, and it utterly annoyed Crane. he was offered that job some time ago, but he turned it down due to having taken the director's position at the asylum. That job was much more favorable to his research than the teaching job. The only reason he still taught at the college was because it allowed him to meet up and coming "adults" who were interested in his field. He was able to scout out new interns to torture, and gain some new ideas about fear and how to manage it. New horror movies and video games were lost on Crane, but the incoming freshman always knew what they were all about. They gave him such lovely ideas about new ways to frighten people.

Gazing over the email, Crane noticed something in the 'To' column, among the list of the email's recipients, a name that he hadn't thought about in over ten years. But it was a name he knew well, and it would also explain his little 'gifts.'

Clicking open a new tab in his browser and seeing the campus' default page pop up, Crane immediately typed in the name he knew into the 'search' bar. When the results came back, he clicked on the first link, a newspaper article that had been in the college newspaper, a thing Crane never paid attention to. The article title was, "New Instructor Brought to Campus from NYC."

The picture associated with the article was of a platinum blonde woman with bright blue eyes that were lined heavily with black eye liner, and dark red lips completing the make-up.

 **My, my, doesn't she look interesting.** Scarecrow purred.

 _She is interesting, well was. I don't know about now_.

 **You know her?** Now Scarecrow was even more intrigued.

 _Yes. And I do believe she's the one who sent those items to me._ Crane informed.

 **Is that so? And what would be the reason for that?** Scarecrow was more and more curious by the moment.

 _We dated in high school_ , was Crane's flat reply. He was looking up her campus information as Scarecrow began to laugh before his reply.

 **What?! You had a girlfriend in high school?!**

 _Don't sound_ _that_ _surprised!_ Crane scoffed, picking up his office phone to call the number to her office. Scarecrow just cackled more as the phone rang twice before a silky voice answered with a, "Hello?"

Crane said nothing, the phone call only being used a way to assure that the woman was indeed in her office at the moment. "Hello?" she asked again, but he couldn't quite find the nerve to hang up just yet, even with Scarecrow questioning what his problem was.

"Jonathan? Is that you?" He could hear the smile on her lips, and shoved the phone receiver down into its holder.

 **What's gotten into you?**

 _Nothing. We're going to go see her. I just wanted to make sure she was there._

 **Riiiiiiiight...**

Crane straightened his suit tie as he stood up from his desk. He could hear Scarecrow growing impatient with waiting for an explanation, so Crane began to flashback to when he was in high school, to when he was dating a mousey brunette with braces, scrawny arms and legs, and always running into things.

 **Whoa, talk about ugly duckling turned swan.** Scarecrow jested.

 _Just pay attention._ Crane continued to relive his high school days, remembering the mind games he played on the easily terrified girl. It was all child's play compared to the experiments he conducted now, but it was a start to his ways.

As he recollected, Crane made his way down the hall and to the elevator. The woman's office was two floors above his, in the same building. Well, at least he knew how she got to this office. It wasn't difficult to ask janitorial staff to open an office if you were an instructor for the university.

 **xxx**

Senna smiled even wider when the phone hung up on the other end. It had been Crane who called her. she was sure of it. There wasn't caller I.D. for the work phones, but the call came in a short time after the faculty meeting email went out. She saw his name on the 'To,' list clear as day, so certainly he had seen hers. She also knew her number was on the campus directory online, so, process of elimination.

She checked her lipstick in her compact mirror before putting it away, and waiting patiently to hear a knock on her office door.

Since she was only working on her syllabi, for her classes, that day, Senna wasn't nearly as dressed up as she 'normally' was, no waist cincher or floppy hat this time. But she did have a long black skirt on, a blue top that had a black mesh section in the center over her collar bone and cleavage*. She also wore blue heels, the same color as her top, and four inches in height. Senna was only a whopping five feet and one inch tall, so heels were generally something she didn't leave home without.

Her eyes held humor as she heard a knock at her office door. Six minutes after the phone call, he must've walked slowly down the halls. She opened the door all the way, her crystal eyes meeting his for the first time in twelve years.

"Boo," she said.

"Boo back," was his reply.

* * *

 **Yay! Second chapter. Senna's outfit, her top at least, resembles this one I found: . nu/files/looks/large /2013/06/11/3098754_ ? 1370980469 (there are spaces so the link doesn't get messed up in formatting.)**

 **I am currently working on the third chapter, but I have got to get some sleep. So, until then, chill out, love a tattooed woman, and have a pleasant day. :)**


	3. 3: New Enemies?

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything having to do with DC or Christopher Nolan's movies! Dr. Senna Swan is mine, however, and please don't use her without my permission. Thank you.**

 **Chapter 3: ... New Enemies?**

* * *

Seeing her in person, after all these years, Crane found himself audibly taking a breath. His reply to her greeting was second nature, an inside joke between the two of them from long ago. But even with his automatic reply, Crane was still agape at the site of his first girlfriend. Her hair was the first biggest difference he noticed, but her self confidence was close second. Even if she hadn't dyed her hair, the self confidence would have been enough to have Crane doing a double take.

This woman before him was a long way from the stringy brunette haired girl he left broken and crying on the side of the road as he drove away to college. He had only thought of her sparingly since, most of it being during his first semester of college, and he was actually waiting to hear that she was rotting in a cell somewhere or found at the bottom of the ocean just off the coast of Gotham.

Instead, here she was, an instructor in his expertise, with a doctorate, a published book, several published research articles, new hair, new self confidence, and nearly unrecognizable to Crane, save for those eyes of hers. Even her body had changed, more toned and obviously late blooming in her chest area. But those blue eyes still looked as beautiful and fragile as ever. he wondered if he could still make them cry?

While Crane was slightly dumbfounded at the sight of her, Senna held back a triumphant smile. She had no need to look him over, for she hadn't stopped studying him since his master's thesis was published. Also, unlike him, she hadn't stopped thinking about him since he left her so distraught twelve years ago.

Although, now, she was pretty sure his intentions that day had been to completely break her and send her into a spiral that would lead her to her death or insane. Instead, his actions actually made her the woman she was now.

True, she had been broken, and stayed that way for sometime after he left her, but college, unlike high school for her, had many outlets for her to take out her pain. She eventually turned her fear and sadness into anger and strength. There was also revenge coursing through her veins, that being her truest reason for coming back to Gotham after so long.

She cleared her throat once she felt his staring had gone on too long, but to her slight surprise, he didn't come out of his trance for another second later. Interesting...

Unbeknownst to Senna, it was Scarecrow who had broken Crane out of his gaze, the alter ego shouting at him to stop staring. **You fucking idiot! What's wrong with you? Haven't you seen a blonde tramp before?**

 _She is not a tramp,_ he fired back quickly.

 **Defending her now? When you haven't been around her in so long? Sounds like someone is whipped. Is she the only one you've ever fucked, Johnny-boy?**

 _You know that is not true. Now shut up! I still have no idea why she's even here after all this time. Or why she sent those things to us._

 **To** **you** **. She doesn't even know** **I** **exist, remember? At least not yet... Oh please tell me you'll let me play with her?**

 _Perhaps, in due time. Oh, you'll just love the way she cries and begs you to stop._

 **You sick bastard. I knew we were two peas in a pod for a reason.**

 _Back to the matter at hand,_ Crane redirected. Although his conversation in his head didn't take very long, it was long enough for Senna to see the wheels in his head churning, and she suspected something was up. She, too, was a psychologist who had learned how to read people quite well. Though, unlike Crane, her emphasis had been on anger instead of fear, and she saw a flash of demented anger in his eyes. This intrigued her. Had the psychopath she knew so long ago finally lost his own mind?

"It has been some time, hasn't it, Jonathan?" Senna spoke first, a warm smile on her burgundy lips.

"Yes, it has been," he replied, a small smirk on his own lips. "I actually didn't know you worked here now," he lied. **Good one. It's not like she didn't call you out on the phone earlier, or anything.**

 _Hush._

"Really? So that wasn't you who called to make sure I was in my office, just minutes after the faculty meeting email had been sent out, with both of our names on it?" Senna snarked.

 **Told you. Idiot.**

 _Well, hasn't she gotten braver over the years. She would have never been so bold when we were in high school._

 **But you're not in high school anymore, stupid.**

 _Obviously._

"Yes, well, I guess I'm busted. But truthfully, I wasn't aware you had taken a position here at Gotham University until I saw that email," Crane confessed. "So what does bring you here, and from New York City?" he asked.

"Oh, read the college newspaper article, did you?" she asked jokingly, knowing he had only obtained that knowledge from that source. "More like skimmed though, hm? Because had you read it, you would already know the answer to that question," she corrected. Senna saw his eyebrow twitch in obvious annoyance. Old habits; that was something his eyebrow used to do whenever he was annoyed with the jocks at school.

Senna was correct in her assessment of Crane. He was indeed getting a annoyed with her. She wouldn't have dared take a tone like that with him in the past, let alone correct him and his ways. Oh, he'd be more than pleased to remind her of her fear of him.

 **Toxin?** The Scarecrow asked with glee.

 _Not yet. Not yet. We need to know what makes her tick, first. After all, it has been twelve years since I last knew how to make her scream in fear._

 **Did you learn how to make her scream in any other way, Johnny-boy?** he picked.

 _Pervert._

 **Prude.**

"I was asked to teach at Gotham University by the Head of the Psychology department because of my intensive studies into human nature, more specifically my studies with anger and the chemicals in the brain that trigger with various stages of anger. I've also been asked to sit in and evaluate on a few therapy sessions with some of the patients at Arkham Asylum," Senna explained when she noticed Crane taking a good second to respond.

Her words, however, sparked something in him. "Arkham Asylum?" he questioned. "Why wasn't I told about this?" Was he or wasn't he the head of the asylum? She wouldn't be allowed to be anywhere near his patients without his approval.

"Oh? And why would you be told of this?" Senna asked, already know the answer to that question but very much enjoying his confusion and rising temper at the whole situation.

He blinked at her, his lips a hard line, and his jaw tightening. But he kept as cool of a face as he could. "I would be told because I run Arkham Asylum. There's no way you can see the patients there without my explicit consent, that's why," he explained, annoyance in his tone.

Senna gave a blink of her own, her eyes looking shocked, though she hardly felt it. "Oh goodness. I am terribly sorry," she said, letting some of her old apologetic tone come in, knowing full well he'd recognize it. She down casted her eyes for an added touch. "I was asked to come in by the F.B.I., as sort of a tour of American Asylums. I've already been to a few along this coast. I guess the director of the project failed to notify you," she replied, reaching a delicate hand out to touch Crane's. This was a gesture she used to do as a way to try and calm him whenever he was upset at something in high school. It would a movement he'd surely recognize and should spark a bit of control over her into his thoughts.

"I'm sorry, Jonathan." At those words, Senna looked back up at him, and Crane heard the Scarecrow nearly howl at the sight of her apologetic eyes. **Damn, Johnny, is this what you had in high school? Such a lovely sight of sorrow and regret?**

 _Yes, this is very familiar. Hmm... I wonder..._

Crane pulled his hand back from her touch a bit harshly, and Senna dropped her gaze again. "You don't have to apologize. Obviously it wasn't _your_ fault in any way," he said, allowing some more annoyance in his voice.

They both were running experiments on each other, though the only controlled experiment was Senna's because she knew just which buttons to push to get certain responses from Crane, while as Crane wasn't aware that she had such mind games planned for him. But Scarecrow did.

 **Hey, remember the note and rose she left you? You really think she's the same person just because she remembers how she** **used** **to act around you? Snap out of it, Crane, you're being played!**

Crane took the words into account, but shook his head lightly. Senna was still looking down at her feet, and Crane looked at her overall stature, recognizing it as classic submissiveness, which any psychologist in the field would know. Everything right down to the slumped shoulders was clear textbook, and a one eighty from her previous demeanor not two minutes ago. Oh fuck, he was being played.

"Senna? Why did you leave me that note and the rose?" he asked pointedly.

She looked up, her face in actual shock as if she wasn't expecting him to realize it was her. "Well, um," she stumbled to get out at first. "I had to get your attention somehow, didn't I? You've spent the last twelve years completely forgetting I even existed. I felt the need to remind you of me since we're going to be working in such close quarters with each other for the next year. At _least_." This response was much more confident, and even her last words were a bit of a challenge.

Raising an eyebrow at her words, Crane felt a confusion of emotion, torn between wanting to put his hands on her in anger, and to put his hands on her in lust. This new woman before him was both infuriating, and beautiful. She was looking at him expectantly, but his reply to her was cut off by his cell ringing.

"Hello?" he answered with some venom. "What? ... And who failed to give him his medication this morning?" Crane let out an exasperated sigh and Senna had to fight back a smirk at his turmoil. "Yes, I'll be there in thirty, just keep him in his room until then," he told the person speaking to him on the phone. After closing his cell to end the call, he turned his attention back on his former girlfriend.

"I have to go, but I would very much enjoy continuing this conversation later. We have much to catch up on," he said.

"Yes, we do indeed," she replied with a snide smirk. "I hope to make sure you don't forget about me again, Jonathan," she added with a wink before turning back into her office.

"Really? Is that so?" Crane questioned, his curiosity piqued. "I do believe you have a crisis to attend to, Dr. Crane. Goodbye." Closing her door before he had a chance to answer was her way of dismissing him from their conversation.

Crane clenched a fist, wanting to use it to try and break down that door, but he did have a crisis to get to, so instead he strode down the hall and back to the elevator.

 **Oh my, isn't she a changeling, little bitch?** Scarecrow retorted. **I think an old victim of your would be a nice new experiment for us, don't you think? Find out what makes her scared, if it's still you or not? Hmm?**

 _Yes. I couldn't agree with you more. Though I do wish to find out what she's up to. I suspect these gifts will not be her last moves towards me._

 **Ah, but now that we know she's the one giving them, we can be ready with a response.**

 _And some gifts of our own. Last I recalled, she was deathly afraid of many things; clowns, spiders, scorpions, frogs, rats, heights, even drowning._

 **Drowning? That sound so much fun! All of them sound like fun.**

Crane and Scarecrow both smiled evilly as they plotted their retaliation against their new interest.

Senna, however, could not stop laughing after she heard Crane get into the elevator, leaving her floor, and her to herself. Oh, her plan was going so well, right down to him realizing she was pretending to be apologetic. While she had been plotting her revenge on this man for some time, she was still pleased that things were moving along quite well. The next game would evolve over time, while they reacquainted with each other and caught up on old times. This game would be much more mental, testing Crane's anger, pushing his control over his emotions. But it couldn't be all at once, oh no, it had to take some time. Crane was also a psychologist too, so she couldn't play the usual mind games the way criminals and manipulators did; he'd see right through that immediately. No, she had a brilliant plan, and she cackled again at how well it was all going.

* * *

 **Oh-hi! I hope I'm doing a good job. Again, if something is completely off in regards to Crane and Scarecrow, please (nicely) correctly me on it, and I will adjust as need be. Senna has some big plans for her ex-lover, but she doesn't even know Scarecrow exists. Could Crane's alter ego ruin her plots? Or will she fool Scarecrow as well? And what about that unspoken lust firing between them? Will that ever be addressed? Stay tuned!**


	4. 4: I am the Dirt You Created

**Disclaimer: Same disclaimer as the previous three chapters. :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 4: I am the Dirt You Created**

The Fall Semester started without a hitch, and Senna found herself just a bit too busy to make anymore moves against Crane. Though it was probably best if she countered a move of his instead. So, she waited patiently those first two weeks for Crane to initiate his own mind games towards her, a response to her earlier antics. No doubt he'd also want to see her reactions, but seeing as how she barely left her office outside of her classes, he probably hadn't grasped a time to hide a camera. Senna decided to start having an actual lunch break, and take it outside of her office. She knew he'd watch her for a few days before determining this was a new habit of hers, and then he'd make his move.

Senna sat quietly looking over her notes with her coffee, at a cafe on campus. Her notes were over Dr. Crane and his patients. Ever since the college offered her the position, she had been building reconnaissance on the good doctor, more than just reading whatever research paper he had just published. She actually knew his two work schedules and most of whom his patients were, and their diagnoses. She had even placed a bug in his two computers to see what he was up to.

Smiling to herself as she looked through her copied patients' notes, Senna noticed a pattern with all of Crane's patients: at least once a month, but generally twice in a month, all of his patients seemed to get "agitated" with Crane during their therapy sessions, and would have to be restrained and sedated as a result. To an untrained eye, these simply appeared to be random outbursts of insanity, but for someone who was once tormented by the man, Senna saw a teenager who learned how to finite his demented need to experiment on people.

Though she stared at the page before her, her eyes were no longer reading it. Her mind flashed back to her teenage years. Her eyes were blindfolded, and she was being lead by a slightly shorter, much ganglier, younger Jonathan Crane.

"Jon? Where are you taking me?" the braces toothed-capped brunette asked, fear already in her voice.

"Hush! Just trust me," teenage Crane answered.

A pout hit her lips as the hands on her shoulders directed her to the left before replacing their positions elsewhere: one to her hip and the other to her hand.

"A big step up-forward," Crane directed.

Shakily, teenage Senna lifted her leg until she found the step her was prompting her to. Pressing her weight into him as she stepped up, Senna whimpered as she teetered, initially.

"Just don't move," she heard him say when he retreated from her. Her hands went immediately to the top hem of her long skirt as away to steady her nerves. She could hear a pencil moving across paper, and assumed that her boyfriend must be writing something.

"What- what are you doing?" she cautiously questioned. "Senna, are you afraid?" was his response.

"N-no. I'm move ne-nervous. I'm still blindfolded, and.. and I don't know what we're doing," Senna answered, shivering when a breeze suddenly struck her. A few more scribbles later, and Jonathan finally untied the back of the blindfold, letting the fabric catch the wind and fall where it may. Almost immediately after, a shriek of terror escaped Senna's lips. The scream echoed off of the night clad buildings around the five-story rooftop she was currently standing on the ledge of.

Blue eyes dilated to a point of nearly losing the blue. Her heartbeat was so loud in her ears that she barely heard what Jonathan asked next.

"Are you afraid now, Senna?"

The brunette was too busy staring down at the street below her, and playing her fall to her death over and over again in her head to really hear what her smiling boyfriend was asking. More wind blew, and another shriek escaped Senna's lips while he hands clenched her skirt for some kind of stability.

"Are you afraid?" Jonathan asked again, with a harsher tone, annoyed that she hadn't answered him the first time.

"Yes! Yes, I am! Please, Jon," Senna shouted, pleading that he bring her down from the ledge, her eyes glued to the street. More pencil to paper noises were heard just before Senna pleaded again, "Please! Jon!"

Hands came up to her hips, and for a tiny second, it felt like they were leaning her forward instead of pulling her back. A blink later, and the hands were pulling her back, off of the ledge, and turning her into Jonathan's embrace, where Senna promptly started sobbing.

"Shhh... I'm here. I'm here," Jonathan cooed while his hand gently stroked the long brown hair in a comforting manner. Senna was shaking in his arms, and grasped his shirt as if he was the very thing keeping her alive. She sobbed, confused by what had happened, but also incredibly thankful that he saved her, and pulled her back. Jonathan, however, was smiling to himself, a thing that Senna was unable to see due to her face being buried in his shirt.

"Miss? Would you like a refill?" came a voice from the present, breaking Senna out of her memory. "No, thank you," she replied, looking up at the waitress with a sweet smile. The teenager walked away, attending to another table, and Senna brought her mind back to the plan at hand.

The copied notes were placed down next to her notepad, her arm covering it to keep the wind from blowing them around while she wrote down her observations, and schematics for her next few moves against Crane. She didn't exactly have an end game, just the drive to make him pay for the abuse he put her through, perhaps drive him to the edge of insanity, the way he had driven her? But it would take so much more than just a few, simple mind games to break Crane. Unlike high school, Crane was successful now, a known name in his field, and held some power in Gotham between being an instructor at the college, and the director of the asylum. The stronger a man was, the harder it was to break them down, but once they were broken, they fell so hard.

Crane would need to lose everything in order for Senna to be able to properly break him. The name he built up for himself, his career, his education- it would all have to be torn from him. She was already in a good position to do this what with being an instructor at the college as well as having nearly all access to the asylum thanks to her own successful career that gave her alliances with the government. It had greatly bothered Crane when Senna showed up to observe one of his therapy sessions, and it bothered him even more when she used her fancy government badge to further speak to that patient after Crane's session with him. The man hated not having control, and has actually called someone at the FBI to try and get Senna removed from his establishment. It didn't work, of course. Senna's badge held ten times more power than the director's badge did, and she simply smiled at him when his brow began to twitch in irritation as the man on the other end of the phone explained to him that Dr. Swan was to be shown anything she wanted, at any time, without hesitation.

Things were unraveling slowly, but they would need to be that way in the beginning. No need to rush something that was already years in the making. She wanted to relish everyone of his disappointments. Speaking of disappointments, Senna's lunch had run a bit late, and she was certain that Crane had broken into her office by now, and set up something to try and keep surveillance on her. So she gathered her things, and placed them neatly in her black, leather messenger bag before getting up from her chair to leave the cafe, setting money on the table as she walked back to the psychology building.

Her heels clicked on the stairs as she ascended them to her office, hoping that Crane heard them echoing all the way to his. He hated hearing the clicking of heels, and in high school had demanded that she never wear them. They weren't in high school anymore, and there was beauty in the simple annoyances. Her keys jingled as she unlocked her office door and did an initial look around of it before flipping on her light switch. It was the way the papers were slanted on her desk, just slightly to the left, that told Senna that someone had been in there, brushing against the stack as they moved around her desk, then readjusting them to appear straight without picking them up to tap them on the hard surface to fully straighten them back out. _Details, Crane. You still assume that I don't pay attention to details._

Senna pulled her keys out from the door, and let it close behind her as she went to sit behind her desk. When she opened her top drawer, she jumped at the sight of a dead spider sitting on top of her pens and pencils. "Ew! Oh my gosh, seriously?!" she reacted, knowing that she was probably being recorded. She acted grossed out, but not fearful, and grabbed a few tissues to pick it up and throw it in the trash. She wouldn't admit to herself that her heart was actually pounding, and her skin felt like it was crawling. Instead, she let herself become angry, and used it to fuel her revenge. After all, she knew he was bound to make a move against her, it was just a matter of time. And no doubt, he'd have another one waiting for her sometime soon, Crane's form of tit-for-tat, but his next move would probably be something alive. Senna mentally prepared herself for what else of his old tricks he'd use on her. Rats? Centipedes? Scorpions? Whatever it ended up being, Senna would be able to handle it this time around.

The rest of her time in her office was spent typing on her computer, and grading her first set of assignments. She tried not to give any further thought to the dead thing in her trash can, but she did absent-mindedly push the plastic container away from her desk with her foot while she typed up an email response to a student.

Both Crane and the Scarecrow noticed this small reaction via the small camera they set up in the corner of Senna's office. **Well, Johnny-boy, looks like she's still a little fearful of the classics.**

 _I knew she would be. Twelve years is a long time, but there are some things that a person never gets over, no matter how far they've come._

 **When do I get to play with her?**

 _After I learn how to break her again, after I have her trusting me again. She would be a very good experiment for the toxin, with all her focus on anger and apparent new found confidence._

 **Yes, she'll be quite a lovely sight to see, trying to hang on to her new self, as you and I remind her of her true place.**

The two snickered at the thought, as Crane switched from the camera screen on his computer to an opened internet search on how to obtain maggots to use in his next trick against Senna.


	5. 5: Are You Sick Like Me?

**Disclaimer: Same disclaimer as the previous four chapters. :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Are You Sick Like Me?**

Senna sat her red coffee cup down after finishing off the life giving liquid within, and relished the warmth it provided her while sitting in her nearly frozen, borrowed office. Even with her doctor's coat, and white leggings, she was still cold inside the asylum- the curse of medical facilities, apparently.

After noticing the time on the corner of her borrowed computer, Senna decided it was time to see a patient on her own. She picked up the office phone.

"Yes, nurse, I'd like to see patient Twenty-three, Thirty-three, please."

*pause*

"Yes, that's the one. ... yes, I'm aware who's patient he is. ... Well, if the doctor has a problem with it, _nurse_ , then that is a matter that should be brought up to me by the doctor, not you. Nurse, please make sure that patient Twenty-three, Thirty-three is in therapy room eight by the time I come down there. Thank you." Her final words were spoken with a final, and threatening tone. How dare that woman question her. That wasn't the nurse's place.

Gathering her files over the patient she was about to see, Senna felt content with leaving the rest of her files on the desk of the office she was borrowing from Dr. Crane. He would be in court for at least two more hours, giving her enough time to conduct her session, and then some. No chance of him snooping through anything while she was out.

Black, two inch pumps clicked rhythmically on the floor, creating an echo down the empty hospital hallway. The files that pertained to the patient were a mix of what was available from Arkham, and the research Senna had done herself. She straightened out her clothes before entering the room.

She was a little taken aback to see the patient confined in a straight jacket. She looked up at the orderly, and asked, "Problems?" The big, black gentleman shook his head, no, but replied with, "This is your first meeting with him. We restrain them on their first meetings."

A carefully shaped eyebrow raised in surprise. Even though Crane clearly had shady business occurring at the asylum, he seemed that he still followed _some_ protocol.

"Thank you. That will be all. I will call for you when our session is over," and with that, Senna dismissed the orderly, and her full attention fell upon the man sitting at the table. She took the seat across from him, the files still in her arms. For the first few minutes, there was nothing but silence. Neither patient nor doctor spoke a word.

Doctor Senna Swan held a small, charming grin on her red lips, and the patient looked at her with wide eyes at first, then squinted, then widened his eyes again.

"Am I starting? You starting? Hmm? You? Me? Me? You? What's going on her here?" the patient finally asked, annoyed with the silence and that smirk.

"Good afternoon, Mister..." Senna finally placed the files down between them. "Hmm..." she pondered, thumbing through them, looking for the answer to her unasked question. "Well, it appears that no one knows your true name, Mister Joker. Now, what is that?" she asked, her blue eyes meeting his.

"What's in a name? As they say, 'A rose by any other name would still stink,' wouldn't it?" the green haired man replied with a sarcastic grin.

"Call me the Mad Hatter, m'dear Alice, and let us escape down the rabbit hole together, to have adventures underground."

Just a reaction Senna was looking for- commentary on her blue, white lace trimmed dress she wore that day. Though, she had to admit that she wasn't expecting the reference to the original title of the story. He was much more educated than she, and others, had originally documented. Interesting...

"Do you know what these are, Mr. Joker?" Senna motioned to the files between them, spreading them out a bit more, mischief in her eyes.

"They're files, Alice. Patients like you and me have them."

"You're partially correct," she clarified, taking mental note of the eye twitch the Joker gave at her correction of him.

"You see, _these_ are patient files. From Arkham Asylum," she said, pulling back two of the seven files that were on the table. "But _these_ , these are the kinds of files one can obtain when trying to figure out who someone else is."

The muscle that typically hold an eyebrow over it, raised on the man's pale, tattooed face, and the wide, crazy smile that he held since first calling her Alice, turned into a harsh scowl.

Senna stood up from her chair to walk, and emphasize her next explanation. Since the Joker was restrained, Senna also hope that her movements would further antagonize him, and elicit a specific response she was looking for.

"Over ten years since I've been back to Gotham. So much has changed..." Senna tiptoed to try and see through the high placed, barred window. She purposefully looked a little lost in thought, but the Joker wasn't sure what she was trying to get at. Then, she whipped around, her demeanor shifting to something more hostile that calm.

"But some things haven't changed at all. You can still find just anything out about a man, _if_ you have enough money, of course." She snatched up the files from then table, and started flipping through them again. "Hmm... let's see here..."

"What are you getting at, Alice?" The Joker sneered at her.

"Plumber...? Hmm... no. A salesman? Shh... probably not.. Construction worker..? Possibly..." she commented, drawing out her words while looking through each file. "All of these men disappeared around the same time you appeared. All of these men have never been seen since their unknown disappearances, and all of them came from certain backgrounds that would be useful for a criminal such as yourself. Huh, apparently you can't get _everything_ , but you can get pretty damn close to it. Oh look!"

The Joker raised his head, eyes wide as Senna started citing off statistics in one of the files: age, birthday, height, possible weight, eye color, hair color, career, and with every trait listed, The Joker appeared more and more anxious. "Awe, this guy had a wife..."

"Everyone has a bad day!" the Joker suddenly shouted, slamming his knee up into the table since his arms were restrained by the straight jacket. Senna turned sharply to look at him, and then glanced at the door to see the orderly looking through the window to check on them. She put her hand up to stop him from coming in and screwing up all of her progress.

It was the Joker's slow, scratchy, sickening laugh that brought Senna's attention back to the matter at hand. He was lightly rocking around in his chair, laughing for apparently no other reason than the fact that he was crazy.

"The wife!" he snapped suddenly. "Do talk about that poor man's wife," he added with a hint of sadness under his sarcasm. Looking back the file, Senna saw that the police reports said she was killed in a home accident. But the private investigator notes told a different story... So the question begged, which note should she tell the twisted man?

"The wife!" he growled, his foot stomping on the floor like an impatient child. Senna decided to tell the police report, but with one small white lie. She was very interested in how angry she could get him. Another pause was taken to further add to the Joker's irritation. When she looked up from the file, his eyes were on her with a cold, menacing stare. Without words, Senna knew what he was silently telling her- _when_ he gets out, The Joker would kill her, regardless of what came out of her mouth next. But Senna wasn't afraid. Crane had tortured the majority of that feeling out of her, years ago. If the Joker did manage to get his hands on her, she'd die without insecurities of the unknown. Death didn't scare her in the least anymore.

"It says that the wife was killed in a home accident." She paused. "And that she was pregnant at the time." Another pause. The Joker let out a growl. "It also says that, oh.. dear..."

"What?!"

"Wait, why do you even care? Mr. Joker? This is just some poor schmuck's wife. Why the interest over an insurance fraud gone wrong?"

There was a disturbing silence for a moment before the man's shoulders started shaking, and that sickening laughter started again, very low- almost inaudible at first. Then it built, louder and more frantic until the Joker was leaning back, almost falling out of his chair with the force of his laughter.

But Senna was prepared, very much aware that the man before her was capable of nearly anything, even when restrained. Sure enough, in a blink, the Joker was out of his seat, and head-butted Senna, sending her back against the wall, folders and papers scattering from her hands to the floor.

"Do you know what I'm going to do to you, little Alice?" he growled, pushing his head against Senna's, and using his body weight on hers to pin her to the wall. "I'm going to find you when you least expect it, take those _files_ of yours, and show you what a _real_ accident looks like!"

Senna stared back at him, unbothered by both his closeness and his threat. The pain from her injured head didn't even show on her face, even when a thin line of blood trickled down it. Because his forehead was still on hers, there was no telling who was bleeding until the Joker was harshly pulled off of the doctor, and she could see only a faint smudge on his face. Senna was the one bleeding.

Two orderlies were on the Joker, pushing and pulling him out of the room while he struggled against them the whole time. "I'll get you, you bitch!" was heard as he was moved down the hallway.

"Son of a fucking bitch," Senna exasperated, rushing to the floor to pick up the files and papers before anyone else came in and saw them. She gathered everything up, snatched the other two files from the table, and cantered out of the room.

She needed to get back to Crane's office, write down her notes while they were still fresh in her mind, and clear out of there before everyone came trying to talk to her about incident. She also needed to check the damage to her head.

\\\\\

"Doctor Swan! A word please," came a voice from behind Senna. She rolled her eyes before turning around to face Dr. Quinzel. The blonde looked livid, her eyes burning holes into Senna from behind her glasses.

"Who gave you permission to see _my_ patient?"

Here we go... the inevitable backlash from the lovelorn doctor. How no one else in the asylum could see it was beyond Senna.

"Well, Dr. Quinzel, this badge, right here, gives me the right to see any patient I want," Senna informed, pointing to her government issued doctor's badge clipped to her jacket's lapel.

This infuriated the other blonde even more. "Do you know how much progress I had made with my patient? How many hours I've invested in him? And you just came in and set me back months! He was finally trusting me, opening up to me, and your little government stunt messed all of that up!" she snapped.

Senna's mouth formed to a tight line. "If my one session with a patient was enough to throw you off track by months, then maybe you're not very good at your job, Dr. Quinzel?"

"I don't know who you think you are, but you have no right to step in on another doctor's patient, set back months of progress, then blame the original doctor for your screw up! You are unprofessional, unethical, and I am going to report you, and ask that your license be revoked!"

Senna smiled at the pissed off woman in front of her. "Go right ahead, doll. Your temper tantrum will be ended before you even get all the words out of your mouth." Dr. Quinzel looked like she wanted to scream, but she kept it together because of where she was, at work, where she was supposed to be professional at all times. She did turn around and storm off as Senna was finishing locking Crane's office door, and proceeding with her leave for the rest of the day.

Senna had a huge headache, and the band-aid on her forehead wasn't helping, seeing as she was allergic to adhesive, and her whole face was starting to feel itchy. But the bleeding needed to be stopped, and Senna had limited time on her hands before Crane returned. Dr. Quinzel just ate up the last of her slack, and Senna ended up running into Crane as she walking out a back door to the parking lot.

"Senna?" he asked as she passed him. "How did today go?" This question had an air of suspicion in it. He hadn't yet been informed about the episode with the Joker, but he did always suspect his ex girlfriend of things nonetheless.

She stopped out of obligated professionalism, but she hoped she was too far away, on this overcast day, for Crane to notice the flesh colored bandage on her forehead. Unfortunately for her, that was not a possibility between Crane _and_ Scarecrow. For a quick moment, Crane looked concerned, and he started to raise his hand to her to inspect her face, but he just as quickly pulled it back. Out of mental exhaustion and psychological conditioning, Senna flinched, slightly, when she saw his hand starting to come up towards her. Most of her fears may no longer exist, but she would always be hesitant around Crane, especially when she felt weakened physically.

 **Oooo.. did you catch that Johnny? She pulled away from you, oh so slightly. I wonder what complete terror looks like on her?** The Scarecrow cooed in Crane's head.

 _It's lovely, trust me. But something's going on,_ Crane answered dismissively.

"Dr. Swan? What's on your forehead?" he asked, stepping closer to Senna to see her face better.

Senna shifted her weight from one foot to the other, feeling pissed off, annoyed, and impatient.

"It's a band-aid, Dr. Crane. There was a small incident with a patient. I've already filled out the proper report pares, and they're placed on your desk, which, thank you for lending to me, again." Senna's reply was curt and to the point. She didn't want to linger while her head was pounding.

Crane's jaw tightened, dislike clearly on his face. Had she been stupid enough to get herself hurt before he even had a chance to properly torture her? Some things, apparently, never change. She had been a klutz in high school, stupidly falling and tripping over things, and it looked like she still was a magnet to injuries.

"Well, go home then, and get some rest. I'll read your report, and meet with you _before_ you conduct anymore sessions with my patients. I've been busy with this court case, so I won't get back to you anytime soon. Until then, take a break from the asylum," he advised.

Blue eyes darkened with further anger and annoyance. "With all due respect, Dr. Crane, I will continue to conduct any sessions I'd like to. That is my job, passed down and sanctioned by the government. And while today could have gone better, I still made progress in my research. I may be visiting _your_ asylum, but I am  not under you. If you managed your doctors the way you try to micromanage me, then maybe you'd notice that one of your own has fallen in love with her patient, and is the one who has helped him escape in the past! And when he escapes this time, he will take her with him, and you will be the one held responsible for all of their casualties. Now, if you don't mind, I have papers to grade, a headache to tend to, and sleep to catch up on. Have a good night."

Senna walked away harshly, not giving any room for Crane to respond to her. She got into her car, started it, and drove away, leaving Jonathan seething mad, gripping his briefcase until his knuckles turned white.

* * *

 **I apologize this has taken so long to get out, but what do you think? The Joker and Harley in this, and in future chapters, are based off of 'Suicide Squad' Joker and Harley. This chapter just takes place right before she helps him break out the last time. I also used 'The Killing Joke' for the Joker's background, but I'm adding a twist of my own to it that will come into play later on.**

 **Thank you so much to my story followers! Y'all keep me motivated to keep writing, so please let me know what you think in reviews or via PMs.**


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